The Education of Sebastian (24 page)

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks!”

I stood up and carried away his empty dishes. I liked listening to music when I washed up so I put on a CD of my favorite arias.

“Puccini?”

I smiled. “Of course. Do you know this opera?”

Sebastian shook his head. “I recognize it but I can’t remember what it’s from.”

“It’s ‘O Mio Babbino Caro’ from
Gianni Schicchi
.”

“Caro! Like your name… except that’s the male way of saying it, isn’t it…”

“I don’t mind: I like that you’re the only person who calls me that.”

His answering smile was huge.

“Papa used to call me ‘mia cara’.”

The music swirled around us and I was swept up in a deluge of memories.

“What’s this song about?” asked Sebastian after a couple of minutes.

“It’s an aria sung by a girl to her beloved father, begging him to let her marry the boy she loves.”

“It sounds very Romeo and Juliet.”

“Yes, except it’s a comedy.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, right!”

I laughed at him. “It is!”

He listened to the music a bit more. “I can pick out some of the words: something about buying a ring?”

“That’s right: and if he doesn’t let her, she’s threatening to throw herself off the Ponte Vecchio bridge.”

“Sounds a bit over the top.”

“Well, it is opera.”

“I’d like to buy you a ring.”

He sounded so serious I turned around from the sink. Sebastian was staring at me.

“I want to marry you, Caro.”

I gasped and dropped the glass I was holding. It slid down into the soapy water but didn’t shatter.

“Sebastian…”

“I mean it. I want to marry you. Will you, Caro? Will you marry me?”

I shook my head. “Sebastian… I can’t talk about this now. I
am
married – to David. And anyway, I wouldn’t do that to you: you’re too…”

“Too young? Is that what you’re going to say, because if you are, don’t bother.”

He rested his head in his hands then looked up again.

“In just over three months, I’ll be 18. I could enlist and a few months later I could be sent to the Middle East. I’ll be old enough to fight, to die for my country, but you don’t think I’ll be old enough to marry you?”

He didn’t sound angry, just determined.

My brain had ceased to function: I simply carried on staring at him.

He looked at me accusingly.

“You met David before you were 18 – and you got married almost straightaway.”

“Yes, and what a disaster that’s been,” I said bitterly.

Sebastian looked like I’d slapped him.

I immediately regretted my words.

“I’m sorry, but…”

“But what?”

“Sebastian, we’ve been together for just a couple of weeks – under the most intense circumstances. Can’t we just… spend some time together? Get to know each other properly. Sometimes I feel that we hardly know each other at all.”

“I love you and I want to marry you. What else do you want to know?”

“Everything! What’s your favorite book? What’s your favorite film? What was your best subject in school? Who was your first crush? What CD have you got in your player at home right now? What do you eat for breakfast? Do you prefer football or baseball? Were you a jock at school? Did you ever date a cheerleader? Do you remember your dreams? What’s your favorite color? Have you ever cried watching a movie? I don’t know – everything!”

He let out a deep sigh.

“Okay, I get it. I’m rushing you.”

I frowned.

“That’s not it – well, not entirely. It’s just… we’ve done everything backwards.”

I walked over to him and laid my hand on his chest. “I want to know everything: inside as well as out. I want to know
you
.”

He held my hand and played with my fingers but he still couldn’t look at me. He was really upset. I guess being turned down when you ask someone to marry you would get you that way. I’d hurt him – and he was the last person in the whole world that I wanted to hurt.

I pulled my hand free and held his face until he had to look at me.

“Sebastian, I feel like you’ve woken me from a dream. But I barely know who
I
am, let alone… I’m sorry I hurt you. I would never want to do that.”

I rested my lips on his, two, three times, trying to convey a message with my light touch.

He pulled away and looked at me.

“Old Yeller.”

“Excuse me?”

“That was a film that made me cry: when he had to shoot his dog.”

“How old were you when you saw it?”

“Ten, maybe. I’m not sure. I always hoped we’d have a dog, but mom said they made too much mess. Do you like dogs?”

“Yes. When I was growing up a neighbor had a little Jack Russell terrier called ‘Tano’. He said the name meant ‘number five’ but I don’t remember what language that was. She was so sweet. I cried for three days when she died. Dad wanted to buy me a puppy but mom wouldn’t let him, so I got a goldfish instead.”

“A goldfish?!”

I grinned at him. “Yes, not quite the same thing! I called him ‘Splash’ – not very original.”

“We could get a dog.”

“What, and take him on the back of our motorcycle through Italy?!”

“Yeah! A biker dog! That would be awesome!”

I laughed.

“What’s your favorite film?” he said.

“I can only think of animal films now. I don’t know, ‘White Fang’ maybe or ‘Call of the Wild’. Oh, but I love ‘Gone with the Wind’.”

He pulled a face.

“What was the last film that made you cry?”

“I cry at most films. Er… ‘Edward Scissorhands’ – that always makes me cry.”

“Who was your first crush? It had better be a film star though or I might have to hunt him down.”

“Better get your gun then!”

“Why?”

“Anthony Kiedis.”

“Who?”

“The vocalist from the Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

“You like rock?”

“I like all sorts of music.”

He laughed happily.

“God, I love you!”

I couldn’t help smiling back at him. “What?”

“Just when I think I know you, you surprise the shit out of me.”

I sat on his lap and put my arms around his neck.

“Okay, your turn: favorite book?”

“Heart of Darkness.”

“Ugh! Why that? It’s a horrible story!”

“I guess because it shows how… how far a man can go when he’s in a place without limits.”

“Hmm: I don’t think you’ll turn me into a Conrad fan. Ok: first girl you ever kissed?”

He reddened and looked down.

“Go on, tell me. I won’t be jealous. Well, maybe a bit.”

“Brenda Wiseman.”

“And how old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

I couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t so very long ago for him. And then my overactive brain imagined him making out with her and…

“What happened to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Well what happened
with
her?”

He shook his head, clearly embarrassed. I was intrigued.

“Come on, tell me. It can’t be that bad.”

“We dated for a while…”

“And…”

“We broke up.”

“When was this? When did you break up with her?”

He shifted uncomfortably beneath me.

“Four months ago.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.

“You went out with her for two years?”

He shook his head. “No, not… about ten months.”

“Oh.”

I stood up and he looked at me helplessly.

“I’m sorry, Caro…”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m just… surprised. I got the impression that you hadn’t…”

“We didn’t sleep together.”

“Why not? Most teenage boys…” the words burned my throat, “most teenage boys would have been desperate to…”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“We were going to – then I heard that she’d been screwing Jack – that guy you met once.” He shook his head. “But I’m glad I didn’t – with her. I didn’t love her. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved: it’s always been you.”

I found it hard to take in. Where did his certainty come from?

“Caro?”

“I’m okay. I’m just… surprised.” There was that word again. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come back?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

But I knew. One day he would have met someone his own age, someone special, and he’d have fallen in love; he’d have had a chance of a normal relationship.  And if
I
hadn’t met
him
? I’d still be sleepwalking through my life.

But I
had
come back and we
had
met again. And I couldn’t go back to the way I was: I didn’t want to.

I held out my hand to him.

“Come on, it’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

We walked up the stairs, hand-in-hand. He stood awkwardly in the doorway while I turned on the small bedside light.

“You want to use the bathroom first?”

“Okay.”

“You can use my toothbrush if you want. The blue one.”

He fidgeted for a few seconds then went into the bathroom. I turned down the sheets, wondering if it would have been better if we’d gone to the guest room. But then again, what difference would that really make?

We swapped over and as I cleaned my teeth with the damp brush, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror: the face was familiar but that was about all. Everything else had changed.

When I came out Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed.

“By the way, where do your parents think you are tonight?”

He blinked and looked up; clearly his thoughts had been somewhere else entirely.

“They won’t notice I’m not there. They’ve probably passed out drunk again.”

He sneered the words.

“Ches dropped me off at home and I jogged over here: that’s why I was a bit late. I didn’t want him to know where… He’s picking me up at 10.30
AM
, so I’ll have to be back by then.” He sighed. “That doesn’t seem very long from now.”

“What if your parents see your room is empty and that your bed hasn’t been slept in?”

I felt a bit panicky at the thought.

Sebastian gave a half-smile. “I didn’t make my bed this morning: if they look in – which they won’t – they’ll just assume they missed me. Honestly, they won’t notice.” He scowled. “They never notice anything about me anyway – except my fucking hair.”

Unconsciously, he ran his hands over his head as he spoke.

“But it got us here, didn’t it,” I said quietly.

He looked at me seriously and nodded slowly. “Are you sorry?”

I shook my head. “No. You make me feel… alive.”

I leaned down and kissed him: a soft, gentle, loving kiss. He responded immediately and passionately, kissing me until we were both breathing hard.

“I… I have to go downstairs,” he said, standing up.

“What? Why?”

“I left the condoms in my jacket pocket,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh, well, I meant to say something about that.”

He flashed a nervous glance at me.

“I told you I was going to start taking birth control pills – and I did, I have. We don’t need to use condoms anymore.”

“Really? You’re sure?”

I smiled. “Yes: no more playing hunt the lost condom.”

He laughed softly. “I kinda liked that game.”

“Well,
I
didn’t. Anyway, we’re good to go,” I said, arching one eyebrow. “Oh, but I should mention… I don’t know if this will bother you… but I got my period. That’s why I know it’s safe for us to stop using condoms. Does it bother you? I mean,
will
it bother you?”

I felt suddenly anxious: we were reaching for a new level of intimacy and I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be.

“Can you? I mean, is it okay to… while you’re…? I don’t want to hurt you…”

I stroked his cheek. He looked so worried.

“Yes, we can still make love. I was just checking that you were okay with… a little bit of blood.”

His eyes were huge. “I want to make love to you, Caro. God, I want to.”

“Then I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”

He responded immediately, kicking his sneakers off his bare feet and tearing his T-shirt over his head. I thought I heard one of the seams rip.

“Hey, it’s okay! We’ve got all night. I want to take it slow with you.”

He looked confused for a moment, then smiled shyly.

“Okay.”

I pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed again, and sat astride him. His arms encircled my waist, pulling me towards him.

“Mmm,” I said, nuzzling his chin as I wrapped my arms around his neck, “this is my happy place.”

Using my teeth, I tugged gently on his earlobe and was rewarded with a soft moan. I let my fingers ripple across his back, enjoying the feel of his skin and the tautness of his defined muscles. I used my fingertips to massage him lightly and he groaned again.

“What’s your favorite color?” I whispered against his neck.

“What? Um… blue. No, green. Red – maybe.”

“That sounded definite! So, football or baseball? Or maybe basketball? Hockey?”

“Basket… base… um…”

“Are you finding it difficult to concentrate?” I teased him.

“Caro, I can barely remember my own name when I’m with you!”

I chuckled quietly. “What do you like for breakfast?”

“Jeez, I don’t know!”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

“Well, what would you like tomorrow?”

“You!” he said.

He stood up suddenly, taking me with him, then threw me down on the bed.

“Enough with the slow,” he said, his eyes dark and serious.

A pulse of desire and lust and need surged through me.

I sat up slowly, hooking my fingers into his belt loops and pulled him towards me. He trembled as I ran the tips of my fingers under his waistband. With bold hands, I traced the outline of his erection through his jeans. He inhaled sharply.

Watching his face the entire time, I opened his jeans, one button at a time, and pulled them down his long, strong, tan legs. His eyelids fluttered closed and he breathed deeply as I pushed the jeans past his knees.

They tangled around his ankles and he nearly fell over trying to kick them off. I smothered a laugh. Sebastian didn’t have an arrogant bone in his body, but he was a man, and all men have their pride.